


Cherries and Love Have Four Things In Common

by crackleviolet



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9715472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackleviolet/pseuds/crackleviolet
Summary: Jumin takes you out to the cherry farm for Valentine's Day. This was written for a Valentine's Day 2017 event on tumblr.





	

The day is hot. _Too_ hot. You adjust your sunglasses and exhale, scouring your locale. **  
**

The weather reports are unanimous in calling it a heatwave, even if none of them are able to agree on a temperature. The penthouse, at present, is practically an oven and Jumin’s calls from the office on your lunch break have picked up in frequency.

“Are you well? Did you drink? Did you check Elizabeth’s water bowl?”

The answers are always the same, right down to the sigh and observation that no matter how often you check it, she much prefers the water in your glass.

Today is different, though. It’s Valentine’s Day. And not only is it baking hot, but you appear to be married to the most oblivious man in the whole world.

Credit where it is due, however. Two weeks earlier, he mentioned that he meant to clear his schedule and spend the day entirely as you wished. Nothing was out of his reach. A vacation? Done. An appointment with your favourite idol? Done. In the end, though, there was only one thing that you wanted and it seemed to surprise him the most.

The only thing you asked of him was to go to the cherry farm. You’d imagined it so many times, from the bright fruit to the way the sun shone through the leaves and Jumin with his shirt sleeves rolled up as the pair of you tugged cherries from the branches. Jumin made no secret of the fact that he didn’t understand your fascination, but he adhered to your wishes anyhow.

And so there you are, frowning at the sight of your husband sitting comfortably under a parasol, while you clutch onto a basket and your hands are sweaty from the afternoon heat. The cherry farm itself is everything you had hoped it would be, but as far as picking cherries with Jumin goes…that is something else entirely. He is far more content to watch you dart between the boughs in the summer dress you chose together, all while sipping lemonade.

Retrospectively perhaps you ought to have been more specific in your conditions; Jumin is still learning how to empathise and it should not really have come as a surprise to you that your ulterior motives were not immediately obvious from the beginning. Even so, you chuckle at your empty basket, suddenly proud at the plan coming together in your mind.

Jumin is curious when you approach him, clearly eager to see the fruits of your efforts. He leans forward in his seat and sets aside his drink, lifting his own sunglasses and appears perplexed when he realises that instead of showing him the contents of your basket, you extend your hand.

“Is there a problem?” He says, his hand cold from the lemonade. “I asked the staff to-”

“Only that you’re all of the way over here. I miss you.”

His reaction is slow. The tension easing from his shoulders and the expression of concern dissolving into one of mild amusement.

“Well,” he says. “We shall have to fix that, won’t we?”

The sun is hot against your back as the pair of you return hand in hand to the cherry trees. You pass him the basket and reach over to roll up his sleeves, laughing as he is demonstrably conflicted over whether he should leave your sloppy handiwork in place or readjust it in a way that is proper and unlikely to unravel. He leaves it in the end, however, choosing to endure the loose fabric folds out of a sort of sentiment for the spots your fingers brushed against the skin.

“I don’t really know much about cherries. What about that one?”

You tug a cherry from the branch and lift it up to see. Jumin takes it from your fingers and pinches it between finger and thumb. He makes a sound of contemplation as he turns it round in his grip and you cannot help but chuckle at his serious expression.

“Jumin…could it be that you don’t know if they’re ripe either?”

“Why would I? I’ve always had them picked for me,” he says. “And until now I’ve never been curious.”

He plants it in the basket and you peer at a different branch.

“We’re not very good at this, are we?”

“The farmers here were impressed with your knowledge of cherries,” says Jumin, as you pull a particularly bright red fruit from the branch. “That’s why they came to the party.”

It’s not framed as a question, but he’s asking one all the same.

“Ah. I used g-.”

And in that moment you both have the same flicker of enlightenment. Jumin reaches into his pocket for his smartphone and you watch in anticipation as he loads the internet, which considering your location is almost torturously slow.

“Huh,” is his eventual reaction. “It says here we have to taste them.”

“Really now?”

Your initial impression is that he’s flirting in some obscure way, until he turns his phone screen and you can read the facts for yourself. Sure enough, you are advised to wait until the cherries are fully red and taste test one before picking a new batch.

“Would you like to do the honours?” You ask, passing him the cherry in your hand after he puts away his phone.

He takes it from you, hesitant at first, and then sinks his teeth into the fruit. You have to admit that it’s more than a bit satisfying to watch the juice trickle down his chin.

“Well?” You ask. “How is it?”

“It’s…ah…”

He seems unsure and you don’t know why, though all becomes clear when he motions for you to come closer. You take two steps forward and he kisses your lips and in that moment not only can you taste the sweetness of the cherries on his lips, but also the cool sharpness of lemonade. Suddenly, you’re incredibly aware of the dirt path beneath your shoes and the arid heat of the day.

Both of you are toppled when the kiss is broken; neither quite knowing how to proceed.

“Well?” He says, though you’re almost certain he’s not talking about the cherries anymore.

“I’m not sure. I think I’ll need another taste to be certain.”

* * *

When he picks you up later, Driver Kim does not question why your basket is empty but the pair of you have cherry juice smothered across your faces.

Frankly, he’s seen worse and, honestly, he knows better.

 


End file.
